


Choose Your Words Carefully

by GrumpyGhostOwl



Series: Battle of the Planets: 2163 [28]
Category: Battle of the Planets
Genre: F/M, Humour, Sexual References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyGhostOwl/pseuds/GrumpyGhostOwl
Summary: There are some things you only want to share with that special someone.





	

“New York?” Mark echoed. “Seriously?”  
  
“What if there’s an attack while we’re away?” Tiny asked, grasping at straws.  
  
“The _Phoenix_ will be undergoing a five-thousand-hourly service for the next seventy-two hours,” Anderson said. “You just got back from giving Zoltar a galaxy-class ass-whipping. I don’t foresee too many problems.”  
  
“So,” Princess said, “we all fly to New York, make an appearance at the talks with the Rigan Foreign Secretary, then we come home, is that it?”  
  
“In a nutshell,” Anderson said. “You should be back in Center City before the _Phoenix_ has been turned around.”  
  
“I guess I can live with that,” Tiny said.  
  
“Glad to hear it,” Anderson said. “Be at ISO Seahorse at twenty-one hundred hours tonight. Wheels up at twenty-one thirty.”  
  
“Can I choose the in-flight movie?” Keyop asked.  
  
“You may _suggest_ a movie,” Anderson qualified, calling on the Voice of Experience.  
  
  
  
The Quanto Tobor Multi-Modal Executive Transport _Seahawk_ had pristine white livery which reflected the pinkish yellow glow of the sodium lights in the boarding area. Her auxiliary power unit hummed as her passengers boarded for their trans-continental flight.  
  
G-Force were settling into their seats while the cabin staff went through their checks and the security staff went through theirs. Chief Anderson was reading through a draft press release which had been handed to him by his Liaison and Protocol Officer Lieutenant Colonel Jones. Jason had contrived to sit next to Lieutenant Francine Patrick who was technically off duty until the next day.  
  
Anderson’s Security Coordinator Major Alban took her seat opposite the Chief of Galaxy Security and put her hat on the tray table to her left. “All set for New York,” she announced to the occupants of the cabin. “If your plans tonight do not include New York, now would be a good time to say so.”  
  
“Everyone’s a comedian,” Jason muttered. “Hey, Keyop, did you choose a movie yet?”  
  
Keyop looked up from his seat to speak but the click and hiss of the intercom cut in and the boy dutifully refrained from speaking as the taxi announcement was made.  
  
The M-MET’s main engines roared into life and the aircraft began rolling to the launch pad.  
  
“I didn’t pick a movie,” Keyop said. “I picked this.” He tossed Jason a compact case containing a 3V strip.  
  
“ _The Complete Monty Python’s Flying Circus_ ,” Jason read aloud. “Way to go, Keyop! Where’d you dig this up?”  
  
“I, ah, borrowed it from the Chief’s study,” Keyop said with a grin which suggested that it was easier to ask forgiveness than to seek permission.  
  
“I wondered where that disappeared to,” Anderson said without looking up from his press release.  
  
The M-MET’s engines powered up for launch and any further discussion was temporarily lost in the noise of take-off.  
  
Once the seat belt sign was off, Keyop handed the data strip to a cabin attendant who set up the entertainment system. “Now for popcorn!” Keyop announced.  
  
Jason and Fran stared at him for a split second. “Popcorn?” Jason echoed.  
  
“Yeah! Can’t have a not-movie night without popcorn! Don’t worry, it’s the microwave kind!”  
  
“Great idea,” Princess said with a smile. “Movie and popcorn! Count me in!”  
  
“Yeah,” Tiny agreed. “I love popcorn. What flavours did you get?”  
  
“All of ‘em!” Keyop declared. “C’mon and give me a hand.”  
  
Keyop and Tiny bustled off to the galley with an armful of popcorn packages to see the cabin attendants.  
  
“Lieutenant Patrick,” Jones ventured. “Are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”  
  
“I’m fine, ma’am!” Fran declared.  
  
“Perhaps you should eat something. Ask the attendant for a sandwich if you don’t fancy popcorn,” Jones said.  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
  
The smell of popcorn began to waft into the cabin from the galley area. Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Fran stared intently at the ceiling. Jones glanced over at them occasionally as she worked on Anderson’s revisions to the press release.  
  
“Is something the matter?” Anderson asked quietly, noting Jones’ distraction.  
  
“I’ll tell you later, sir,” Jones promised. “Here. Read your speech.”  
  
“I suppose it bears little to no resemblance to the outline I gave you this morning?” Anderson said, calling up the document on his palm unit.  
  
“I took out all the references to blood sucking leeches and cretins if that’s what you mean,” Jones said serenely.  
  
“You never let me have any fun,” Anderson grumbled.  
  
“Who wants popcorn?” Keyop asked, bouncing back into the cabin with a tray full of steaming bags. Tiny followed at a more sedate pace and offered Jason and Fran their choice of flavours from the tray he was carrying. Jason winced and shook his head while Fran held up a hand and muttered something that looked like a polite refusal.  
  
“Fun police, that’s me,” Jones murmured, glancing at Jason again. “Oh, thank you, Keyop.” She put the hot bag of popcorn on the tray table and continued working while the strident strains of _The Liberty Bell_ filled the cabin along with the smell of freshly popped corn.  
  
“Any requests?” Keyop asked.  
  
“About popcorn?” Jones asked. Jason frowned.  
  
“Sketches!” Keyop declared, waving at the menu displayed on the big screen.  
  
“The funniest joke in the world!” Princess said.  
  
“Village idiot?” Jones asked.  
  
“The Spanish Inquisition,” Anderson said, glancing up from his palm unit.  
  
Princess smiled at Keyop. “I guess since it’s the Chief’s copy of _Flying Circus_ , he ought to get first pick. Go on, Keyop. The Spanish Inquisition.”  
  
“I totally didn’t expect that,” Mark said.  
  
“No-one expects the Spanish Inquisition!” Keyop, Princess and Tiny chorused.  
  
“Zoltar wouldn’t believe this in a month of Sundays,” Jones murmured to Anderson. “There go my plans to defect.”  
  
“I didn’t know you liked Monty Python,” Anderson said while Keyop put his playlist together.  
  
“I didn’t know you liked Monty Python,” Jones parried, “so we’re even.”  
  
“Jase?” Princess called, “are you sure you don’t want any popcorn?”  
  
“Nah, I’m good,” Jason said, leaning away slightly from the bag Princess was offering.  
  
“You sure?” Tiny asked. “I thought you liked popcorn.”  
  
“Sure I like… popcorn,” Jason said. “I just don’t feel like any right now.”  
  
“Hmmmm,” Jones said quietly.  
  
Anderson took note of Jones’ calculating stare. “Al?”  
  
“Later,” Jones said. “Once I’ve worked it out.”  
  
“Are you okay, Jase?” Princess was asking, concern showing in her eyes.  
  
“I’m fine, Princess,” Jason said. “I guess… I guess flying all the way to New York and back to appear like some show pony for five minutes just has me a little annoyed.”  
  
“If you’re sure,” Princess said. “You didn’t even pick a sketch.”  
  
“Oh… Okay. Um… Dead Parrot _._ ”  
  
Keyop grinned and added the Dead Parrot sketch to his playlist. “How ‘bout you, Fran?”  
  
Fran froze like a deer in headlights. “I haven’t seen any Monty Python before,” she said.  
  
“Shay?” Keyop prompted.  
  
“The one where they have to fight fruit,” Shay said.  
  
“Self Defence Against Fresh Fruit!” Keyop declared happily.  
  
“Good thing there’s nothing in there about self defence against popcorn,” Jones remarked innocently. Fran blushed and looked away.  
  
“Don’t put ideas in Keyop’s head, Al,” Princess warned. “The last thing the cabin staff need is to be cleaning up wall to wall popcorn!”  
  
Jason scowled at Jones.  
  
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Anderson muttered under his breath.  
  
“Eventually, sir,” Jones said.  
  
“Excuse me,” Fran said and made her way to the forward rest room.  
  
Jones intercepted Fran Patrick as she exited the rest room. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Jones asked. “Is there something about popcorn that bothers you? I’ve seen you flinch every time anyone utters the word.”  
  
“I’m fine, honestly,” Fran said. “It’s just… it’s just that I don’t really like the… smell of… of popcorn. Never have, even as a kid.”  
  
“Perhaps you should go and rest in the sleeper section with the air on,” Jones suggested. “Jason could keep you company if you like,” she added.  
  
“I’ll see how I feel!” Fran said and fled back to the main cabin.  
  
Jones watched the younger woman go, then made her way into the tiny office cubicle and collapsed into a chair, doubling over as she did so.  
  
Chief Anderson observed Fran Patrick’s return and saw her whispering urgently with Jason, who made a helpless gesture and patted the seat next to him. The young officer sat down and made a visible effort to concentrate on the end of the Spanish Inquisition sketch.  
  
When Jones didn’t return after a couple of minutes, Anderson got up and headed forward.  
  
He found Jones in the office cubicle, leaning over the desk, uttering muffled sobs. “Al! What’s wrong?” He rushed over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She straightened up, one hand over her mouth and he realised she wasn’t crying. “What…?”  
  
Jones shook her head and giggled helplessly into both hands.  
  
“Who are you and what have you done with my Liaison Officer?” Anderson asked, folding his arms.  
  
Jones took a couple of deep breaths and regained her composure. “Sorry, sir,” she said.  
  
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Anderson asked.  
  
Jones got up and leaned past Anderson into the corridor. She looked in both directions to ensure nobody else was within earshot, then she told him.  
  
“No!” Anderson said, struggling not to grin. “I don’t believe it.”  
  
“Test the theory then, Mister Scientist,” Jones challenged. “Watch the reaction. It happens every single time, and I happen to know that Shay lent Fran a _particular_ novel covering the subject matter a few weeks ago.”  
  
“That doesn’t qualify as a theory. It’s barely even a hypothesis,” Anderson corrected.  
  
“Test it,” Jones said again.  
  
“Okay,” Anderson said. “Now pull yourself together or the others are going to think there’s something wrong. Apart from what’s clearly so very wrong, on so many levels,” he added.  
  
“Is Al okay, sir?” Shay asked as Anderson returned to his main cabin.  
  
“The damned woman’s a workaholic,” Anderson lied smoothly. “She’s checking bulletins for heaven’s sake.” He pressed the call button for the attendant and ordered tea and coffee.  
  
_"Ja! Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput!"_ declared the Pythons.  
  
Jones walked back to her seat and sat down giving no sign that she’d just recovered from a fit of the giggles. The attendant returned with the tea and coffee.  
  
Anderson waited a minute or two before addressing Jones. “Want some popcorn?” he offered, holding out a bag.  
  
“Why thank you, sir. Amazing stuff, popcorn,” Jones said, holding up a piece between thumb and forefinger and turning it to and fro. “You apply just the right amount of heat and all that pressure builds up to an explosive… climax. _Pop_! I wonder who thought of it first?”  
  
“No idea,” Anderson said, heroically maintaining a straight face, “but whoever it was, generations of movie goers can be eternally grateful for the enhancement of their viewing pleasure.”  
  
Jones ate the popcorn and followed it with a prim sip of her tea. “Just so,” she said.  
  
Jason was clenching his teeth and made an effort to let go of the arm of his chair.  
  
“Jase?’ Princess said. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine!” Jason said. “Really. I’m fine.”  
  
“No headache?” Keyop asked.  
  
“No headache,” Jason said. “I’m fine.”  
  
Jones smiled archly. “We can’t tempt you to some popcorn?”  
  
Jason was half out of his chair before he realised it. “ _Will you stop talking about popcorn?_ ” Fran put a hand on Jason’s arm and he subsided, sinking back in to his seat.  
  
“I’m willing to concede,” Anderson said _sotto voce_ to Jones, “that you could be correct.”  
  
“First round’s on you tonight,” Jones said smugly.  
  
“Yes it is,” Anderson said, and chuckled. “We should probably stop now.”  
  
  
  
As soon as the M-MET had powered down and the cabin staff unlocked the doors, Fran Patrick shouldered her duffel bag and strode down the ramp. She waited on the apron for Jason to catch up with her and the two of them hurried toward the terminal, keeping their distance from the rest of the team.  
  
“I’ve never been so mortified in my life!” Fran whispered furiously. “I swear they know! I have no idea how, but they _know_! You didn’t tell them, did you?”  
  
“God, no!” Jason whispered back. “Why… _how_ would I possibly tell either of them a thing like that?  
  
“We’ve _got_ to change our safe word!” Fran hissed. “No more popcorn!”  



End file.
